"Elderly primigravida": now there's a phrase to make you feel great. "First-time mum over 35" is more palatable. I don't consider myself elderly. When I saw it on my medical notes, I felt ancient, but I'm only 43; Cherie Booth had one of her sons at 45. My expanding waistline isn't middle-age spread, it's a baby.

Being an older mum brings a spectre of doom: doctors seem to relish talking about miscarriage, stillbirth or Down's syndrome. It's hard to remember that the increased risks are still small. My dad's reaction when I said I was pregnant wasn't "Congratulations!" but "I hope you're having an amniocentesis." I am, of course, but it isn't the main focus of my pregnancy. I'm trying to think about the positives: I'm in a stable relationship, I'm financially secure, I want this baby, it wasn't an accident.

Socially, I would be much more acceptable if I were a decade younger, but 10 years ago I was single and self-employed, too interested in the high life for children. I'd now have a 10-year-old whom I resented for taking away my freedom.

The prurient curiosity surrounding pregnant women in general is icky, but when they're in their 40s it's positively aggressive. Why did I wait? Am I sure my eggs are still fresh? I'm expected to be robust in the face of these criticisms, but I feel as anxious and insecure as any new mother. What I need is reassurance and support, not judgment. I am still blooming, even if it's a bit late.